


no good at lip service (except when they’re yours)

by Tsume_Yuki



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Rigel Black Chronicles
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Female Harry Potter, Inspired by The Rigel Black Chronicles, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M, because I’m tired of love triangles and I couldn’t decide who I shipped with Harry so you get both, three way relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:20:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 19,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25820494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsume_Yuki/pseuds/Tsume_Yuki
Summary: Just some drabbles on how a Caelum/Harry/Leo may work.
Relationships: Caelum Lestrange/Harry Potter/Lionel Hurst
Comments: 265
Kudos: 549





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Futile Facade](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/664573) by Murkybluematter. 



> title taken from the lyrics of Irresistible by Fall Out Boy.
> 
> Over here in England, the age of consent is 16. In the Wizarding World, I’d assume its 17, as that’s when they can drink & use magic. And, given the time turner in 3rd year, then Harry is thought to be nearly two years older than she actually is. So, basically, it’s a mess. 
> 
> Enjoy?

  
  


It starts with Harry turning seventeen. Or, perhaps it starts when Ogden invents his firewhisky and it ends with Harry turning seventeen. The end of Harry’s easy life that is.  


No matter the start, the point is, Harry turns seventeen (nineteen, she’s actually nineteen). 

The point is Leo says they should go out for celebratory drinks at the Phoenix. 

The point is, Harry spots Caelum on the way and decides the socialisation will do him good (and here lies the evidence of the pre-drinks she’d partaken in with Archie, thinking it a good idea to drag Caelum of all people to the Phoenix). 

The point is, the glasses in the Phoenix are charmed against Caelum’s clever vanishing tricks.

All these little points keep adding up and adding up throughout the night, though Harry passes out long before she completes the calculation.

The point is, Harry wakes in her bed, two bodies bracketing her, and an ache unlike any she’s ever felt before (it’s a nice ache, like working out but much more rewarding).

She looks to the left and finds Lionel Hurst’s sleeping face. The right has a head of black hair with the face buried deep into the pillow; she’s reasonably certain it’s Caelum Lestrange. She’s between the two of them and there’s stuff on her that certainly isn’t clothing.

For all that the points have added up and the calculation is complete, it comes back in pieces.

Caelum’s flushed cheeks. Leo’s infectious smile. Bets on who can drink the most. Caelum or Leo telling the other to back off. Harry declaring she won’t be choosing one over the other to silence the argument. 

She can’t remember who put forwards the idea of not having to choose (might have been her but she hasn’t meant it like that, like this). It’d sounded perfect at the time. 

It explains well enough how she’s ended up sandwiched between the two in her double bed that really isn’t built to accommodate three. That’s not the reason they’re squished together though.

At least she’d had the forethought to head to her apartment instead of home.  
  


Harry lays there, recognising she has two choices here. 

She could skip out of bed, disappear before either of her companions awaken and then continue on as if nothing ever happened. It would draw the line upon what they’ve done, would make it explicitly clear this was nothing more than drunken revelry and that they shouldn’t have crossed the boarders of their friendship.   


Leo shifts and the hot weight of his head comes to rest on her shoulder, his breath ghosting across her collarbone. Not to be outdone, Caelum grumbles something into the pillow he appears to still be attempting to suffocate himself with. The arm that she’d not really registered across her waist tightens, pulling her ever so slightly towards her fellow potions enthusiast. The slight swell of his biceps against her ribs is as distracting as the hard muscle of Leo’s thigh pressing against her own.

Or, there’s options two, where she can stay in bed, luxuriate in the bodies beside her and make it clear that, for all that ushering in a new era of potioneering is her primary focus... it doesn’t have to be her only focus.   


Because she enjoys their company: Leo with his trickster ways and the dedication he has towards his people; Caelum’s potion theories and his snooty attitude that is (at this point in their friendship) nothing more than a facade. 

Potions has been the epicentre of her life so far, the driving force that had carried her into Hogwarts’ welcoming arms. 

But that won’t last forever.

And now that she’s approaching her final year... perhaps it’s time she starts looking into building something that will exist for Harriett Potter beyond the ruse.

Decided, Harry nestles her head back into the pillow, one hand wiggling down to rest on Caelum’s forearm, the other wrapping around Leo’s biceps. Then, she slips seamlessly back to sleep. 

Of course, it’s Caelum that breaks the peace several hours later. 

His muffled “fuck,” is spoken softly into the pillow, but is done so with  _feeling_ . 

Harry just grunts, pulls his arm a little closer (ignores the zing of attraction that races through her as Leo’s leg is looped over one of hers) and grumble for him to go back to sleep. 

Just a little while longer. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be a drabble series, I hiss while posting 1,000 words.

“Just because I was inebriated by such common swill as to become blind to your plebeian ways, don’t assume for even a second that I would agree to a repeat of that debacle.” 

“You know, by definition my blood is actually purer than Harry’s,” Leo says, hands behind his head and a smile that just challenges Lestrange to offer a retort to that one. He can’t, in truth. Not without exposing his complicity. Not that there is anything illegal about what they got up to. In fact, there’s a law that ensures halfbloods marry purebloods, so it’s probably be looked upon favourably. 

Well, the fact it was three parties involved as opposed to two may raise a few eyebrows, but it’s hardly the most scandalous scene the wizarding world will have ever been exposed to.

“And what if Harry asks for a repeat performance? Are you just going to turn her down? Not that I’d have a problem with that.” 

“It isn’t Potter I have a problem with.” _It’s you_. It’s not said, but the venom in those icy eyes screams it louder than any human ever could. Leo’d be wounded if he didn’t already know one of the oval shaped bruises beneath Lestrange’s collar is the same shape as his own mouth. 

“That’s not what you normally say,” Harry declares, strolling out of her bathroom with her hair wrapped up in a towel, Leo’s sleeveless tunic drowning her slight figure to the point she needn’t wear any trousers. There’ll be underwear underneath the excess length of his shirt... probably. “In fact, I’d say that’s almost an acceptance of friendship, Caelum.” 

“Like this,” Lestrange gestures to the space existing between them, or perhaps the remains of Harry and Leo’s clothing that are scattered on the floor (the snooty ass that’s currently speaking had showered and dressed first, of course), or maybe even gestures to Harry and Leo themselves, “is what constitutes as friendship.” 

“I didn’t realise you were such an expert on the topic of friendship.” 

Leo ignores whatever Lestrange chooses to say in response to Harry’s astute observation there, too busy compiling every fact and rumour that he’s collected on Lestrange in his mind. He’s kept tabs on the other ever since he’d gotten that first report of him and Harry eating out at a fancy-pants restaurant; he’d made her pay the bill- how ungentlemanly. 

He’d deserved Harry‘s little plot of getting his wine watered down, though how the other hadn’t ended up drunk off his tits is a mystery to Leo. He had, after all, been the first one to end up well and truly sloshed last night. Not a surprise; he’s like a beanstalk, tall and thin without any significant muscle tone. Just enough to be considered attractive (Leo knows, he’s looked; he’d been very thorough in his research), but nothing that’d help him hold his liquor. Further reports from his eyed and ears had said the Lestrange heir drunk like a fish at all his meetings and never once ended up cross-eyed from it. So, he was doing something magically to stop himself from getting drunk.

Something he’d not been able to do at the Phoenix, Leo concludes with a grin. 

“Harry,” Leo interrupts, relishing the scowl that’s crosses Lestrange’s face as he cuts him off, “what do you want now?”

“What do I want?” Harry parrots, tilting her head to a side and peering up with those lovely green eyes; he swears they used to be brighter, back when she was a kid, but perhaps he’s just embellishing the memory with how fondly he recalls it. “What do you mean?”

“He means, Potter, what do you expect to happen now. Between us.” Lestrange sends him a smirk after he speaks, as if this is a game of oneupmanship and he’s now in the lead. Silly little lordling; he has no idea who he is playing with. 

“Do you want to pretend this never happened, start a relationship, or just be friends who occasionally tumble into bed with each other?”

“I haven’t thought about it,” Harry admits, thoughtlessly steamrolling over Lestrange’s protest of how they most certainly are not friends. “I didn’t think I wanted friends until I made them. Then I didn’t think I wanted to drink until I tried it and enjoyed it. I always disdained the idea of a relationship or sex because it seemed like a waste of time-“

“Potter! You cannot possibly think that was a waste of time!” The sheer offence in Lestrange’s voice is reflective of what Leo feels, coupled with the hurt that he nestles in his breast but doesn’t expose. 

Harry hums, removing the towel from her head and begins rubbing at her wet hair. “It was very enjoyable and not what I’d classify as a waste of time now. What I’m trying to say, is that I seem to have a problem of not recognising what I want until I stumble across it.” 

“You did once mention a potential harem,” Leo cheerfully points out, taking great delight in how Lestrange splutters over his words. “Though I’ll have to warn you against your plans for building a palace here. I don’t think it’ll go down well with the locals.”

“Noted,” Harry says drily, banishing the towel back into her bathroom, where it hangs itself over the towel rack to dry. Then, more hesitant than he’s seen her in a long while, she looks between him and Lestrange, sucking in her low lip and that effectively captures his attention temporarily. “I don’t know what a relationship would possibly be like, but I liked last night. I liked that it was both of you- I like thinking that I’m Harriet Potter who is best friends with Leo Hurst and is secretly a Pureblood to be friends with Caelum Lestrange.” She grins, shaking her hair out one last time and Leo takes note of other things that shake and strikes the idea that Harry has put underwear on.

“So, I want to stumble through this- whatever it is. If you two want to.”


	3. Chapter 3

By Merlin, what has he done?

Caelum had left Potter’s flat (what on earth does the girl have her own flat for, in the Lower Alleys no less?) not long after her request for them to ‘stumble through this’ with some lacklustre excuse that he cannot even recall now. Hurst’s burning eyes had followed him the entire time he’d walked out of the room and the thrice-cursed hickey on his neck the bastard left is still throbbing. On the other hand, the scattering of bruises Potter left litter his chest like constellations across the sky; he’ll never admit to admiring them in her bathroom mirror for a breath before he’d showered.

But the sheer cheek of asking that, of expecting him to be willing the share. And Potter, being greedy enough to imply that- she’s the halfblood, if anything, it should be her asking if she can share him. Not that he wants to be shared between Potter and Hurst. How does she even know Hurst anyway? Oh, he’s aware that her close proximity to the Aldermaster is potentially due to her relationship with Hurst (which is would appear has only now just ventured out of the friendzone, for all that Hurst looks to her as if she hung the stars). But, how she has come into contact with that riffraff is another matter entirely.

Though he doesn’t acknowledge it due to her half-blood status, Potter is a Book of Gold name. Any children she has will be considered pureblood. That is, unless she makes a monumentally bad choice for a partner. Given the way Hurst is hovering, he doesn’t think that’s a danger.

It does set his teeth grinding though.

Not that it matters. Potter is Potter, a halfblood whelp with absurd potions ideas. It doesn’t matter that she’s the only person he’s ever spoken to who actually gets it, who understands the fascination- Fuck it.

It definitely does matter.

Merlin damn it, how has this happened? How has he gotten to the point that he actually wants to get entangled in the sprawling mess that is Potter’s life? Because it is a sprawling mess; he might have gotten drunk as a lord (and how the fuck had that happened?), but he can still remember how many of the plebeians down here had greeted Harry by name. The key thing of note is how several of them had referred to Hurst as ‘his Highness’, something they’d done without a hint of a joke in their voices. There’s clearly something going on down here in the Lower Alleys. In fact, where the fuck is he? He doesn’t recognise this street at all, even though they’d gone down Knockturn to get here.

Not that it matters, he won’t be coming back. So, he can just leave Potter alone now that she’s got something going on with Hurst, nevermind that she’d looked to him too as she said it. He doesn’t care for Hurst; no tangle in the sheets is going to change that, it doesn’t matter how good it was. He’ll just continue on with his life as they get wrapped up in each other…

He’s turned around before he’s even consciously thought about it, taking the stairs two at a time until he’s by the door for Potter’s apartment. She’s not even bothered to close the door and he doesn’t want to dwell on it. Only, he does; has she left it open because she’s that self-assured of her safety here, or because she knew he was coming back?

Potter’s at the little kitchenette, her short hair held back by a ridiculously bright hairband that clashes something terrible with her eyes, and she’s stirring a pot of something that unfairly smells good.

There’re three plates out on the side. Hurst is nowhere to be seen but the water pipes are rumbling; in the shower then.

“Why the hell did you expect I’d come back?” Caelum asks a frown crossing his face because she is not supposed to be able to predict him like this.

“Because you’re like me. When you realise you have something you want, you don’t give it up without a fight.” Potter grins, serving up the peasant meal she’s been slaving over. “Though, please don’t actually fight Leo. I don’t want to spend my day scraping you off the floor.”

“Excuse me?!”


	4. Chapter 4

Leo is the first to leave, scrambling out of the window, though he remains half hanging over the sill until she goes over to see what’s holding him up; that’s when he takes the opportunity to plant a kiss on her, offer a roguish wink, and then disappear into the street once he’s climbed down. Caelum splutters over the action, giving away the fact he’d been watching despite the insistence he was just about to leave via Floo. Not to be outdone, he lowers his head just enough to press his lips to hers and not an inch more. Snooty Pureblood ponce. 

But, now that Caelum has also disappeared in a flash of green fire, it leaves Harry sitting at her table, wondering just how it has come to this. She doesn’t regret it, not in the slightest. It’s odd; she’d always made it explicitly clear to her father that she doesn’t care for the idea of romance, much to his relief. 

She wonders how he would feel now, knowing she’s making up for lost time by entertaining feelings for two boys. Only, can she really call Caelum and Leo boys? No, not after last night. Her hips are still slightly tender to the touch from where they’d held so tight only hours ago, her thighs are still aching in ways that her exercises never quite managed to make her feel. She’d flushed the hangover from her system via healing magic and done the same for the two sharing her bed before they’d even woken up, so it’s not as if she has an excuse to laze about for the rest of the day, reliving was an unusual night she’s just experienced. 

No, she needs to head home and make a tokened effort of pretending she’d slept at Archie’s. She knows he’ll have successfully covered for her in much the same way that she did so for him while he was sleeping at Hermione’s just the other night. 

  
  


Which is how Harry finds herself sitting up to the kitchen table opposite her mother, trying to studiously ignore her all-knowing eyes. Beside her, Addy is having the time of her life, delicately applying paint to her paper via finger-painting. She’s insistent that she’s painting their family and Harry doesn’t have the heart to tell her that she’s made Lily the tallest of them so it’s proportionally inaccurate. 

“Have a nice night, Harry?” 

Harry blinks, forcing down the toast she’d been presented with upon arrival. She hates that she’d been honest in stating she hadn’t had any breakfast at Archie’s; if she’d lied, she wouldn’t be having a second breakfast now, even if it is only as simple as two slices of plain toast. 

“I slept well?” Harry offers in return, not quite sure what else there is to say in response to that. She had slept well, waking only that once to register where she was, work on flushing the hangover away, then fallen right back to sleep. 

“Alone?” 

Now, Harry has a choice here. She could lie, could agree with Lily’s one wired question and set whatever concerns her mother has at ease. Or, she could go with the truth, could answer a negative and send a bolt of dread down the spine of her father, wherever his job has taken him on this sunny summer’s day. Two options lay before her and- and Harry has lied to her parents about enough things in her life. There’s no shame in this.

“No, I was- that’s okay, right? I mean, I am seventeen-“

“As long as you were safe, Harry, and I don’t just mean sexually...” Lily bites her lip, waving her wand in a lazy circle and Addy’s favourite fairy tale, the Tale of the Three Brothers, is suddenly playing in the adjacent wall. Her little sister is instantly enthralled and will most certainly not be paying a lick of attention to the conversation between mother and daughter that is about to occurs. 

“Do you like this boy or girl?” 

“Boys,” Harry admits, feeling her cheeks heat which is a stupid reaction. She’s already decided that this odd evolution in their relationship is what she wants from Caelum and Leo, has already decided it is nice and she wants to see what else there is, how far they can take this thing. To be embarrassed by something she wants is ridiculous. It still doesn’t stop the flush that comes with Lily’s eyebrows lifting in surprise. 

There’s a pause but her mother blessedly soldiers on. 

“Do you like these boys? Are they good to you?”

Are they good to her? 

Leo has taught her to fight, has looked out for her in the Lower Alleys. Caelum has (after being dragged kicking and screaming into friendship) become her potions sounding board, has pushed her to greater depths with his abrasive truth-telling. 

They had asked what she wanted, what she was okay with last night, in their own, original ways. 

“Yeah. They’re good to me.” 

Is Harry good to them? She hopes so. She’s forced Caelum to socialise, to know what it means to emotionally rely on someone (even if he so very rarely takes that offered shoulder to figuratively cry on). She’s forced Leo to relax, to power down from his role and King and just exist as another teenager with her. 

She will keep trying to be good to them because they are worth the effort. 

“Then you have my support,” Lily says, reaching across the table to clasp both of Harry’s hands in hers. Then, so quietly that Harry almost misses it, she whispers, “Merlin knows with your father, you’re going to need it.” 


	5. Chapter 5

“I know that look! That’s the look of a lucky lad you just got laid!”

Marek throws an arm over his shoulder, pressing their heads close and he smells of sweat. Sweat from a hard day’s work, sweat from a few rounds in the ring, sweat from a few hours toiling away at a new knife trick.   
It’s not the sweet tang of sweat from racing heartbeats and skin that’s far too silken on cotton sheets, the taste lingering on his tongue long after he’s done licking pale skin and even paler skin-

By Kyprioth, those two potioneers need to get out in the sun a bit more. Harry’s not so bad on that front, but Leo’s eyes and ears report that Lestrange is almost never sighted out under the open sky. He wonders if the other tans or burns. Wonders if the red would look as fetching as the flush that’d crossed his cheeks last night. 

Ah, is this what comes with associating with Harry? 

Leo is not utterly inexperienced between the sheets (he’s relatively sure that last night he was the one with the most experience under his belt), but there hadn’t been quite the emotional attachment to his previous partners as there had been to Harry. Had his magic gotten tangled up in hers and fed off her attraction to Lestrange? He doubts it, otherwise he’d be obsessed with his own image in the mirror too. No, Harry’s magic hasn’t had him mystically imprint on Lestrange; Leo’s seen the other out and about, had known he’s an attractive looking lad prior to last night. His ears and eyes had told the King of Rogues everything else he could ever need to know, whispers of a loveless home life, of an attitude much alike a viper, striking out first to avoid being stung himself. There’d been pity, yes. But, there’s also been interest. And, if Harry’s open to a relationship like this, then Leo can afford to kindle that interest. 

“So, come on, share. Did our King get lucky with the Princess?”

“You really shouldn’t call Harry that behind her back, Swift.” 

“I’d call her that to her face, but I reckon she’d think I was joking.” 

Leo hums in response, rolling his eyed and shoving Marek’s sweaty arm from his shoulders. Harry can’t be Queen of the Rogues, not yet anyway. While it’s traditionally a position held by the King’s lover, the lass still has her schooling to complete first. Even then, for all the help she’s been to the Alleys, he doesn’t think she’ll be satisfied looking after kids and women for the rest of her life. Harry’s made for greatness; Leo’s known it since the moment he met her, the moment his magic brushed up against hers and screamed at him to pay attention. 

Swift gets a hold of his collar, pulling it down and Leo shoves him off. Not before the bastard gets a good look at his collarbones. 

“That’s a love bite if I ever saw one,” Marek croons, dancing away with footwork far fancied than is necessary to put space between them. He flutters his eyes, offering a smile that on a lass might be described as coy but, on Swift, is nothing other than a mockery. 

“What’s that, Swift?” Leo calls, pitching his voice to be heard but not to shout. His subjects turn, interest piped and the King of Rogues grins. “You’re gonna get me a bite to eat? I do fancy summet from the Eating Place.”

“I’ll get ya dinner, your Highness,” Marek huffs, drilling an elbow into his side for good measure and Leo cuffs the fool around the head. “Even you tricking me into running for food ain’t gonna ruin my good mood. I want the deats!” 

Swift takes off, not even waiting around to hear what Leo fancies eating. He’s fetched Leo a bite often enough that he won’t bring back anything he don’t like. 

Which leaves Leo free to ponder his Lestrange problem.


	6. Chapter 6

  
Caelum goes back to Dartmoor for exactly thirty minutes: three minutes to sneak up to his room and collect fresh clothes; two minutes to slather his neck, collarbones and chest in bruise removal paste; twenty minutes in the shower to scrub as much of his skin as possible because he’s certain Mother will sense the taint on him. He has every intention of being by the fireplace when he runs into her (because he will run into her, he’s not that lucky) for a quick escape. 

The final five minutes come as he’s sneaking to the office that has the other Floo (his uncle’s, though given the way the man is always in some form of fight with his father, he’s very rarely seen at Dartmoor anymore). He’s just managed to get inside as he hears the crisp, chilling click of his mother’s heels upon the stone floor. It’s slower than the usual sharp snaps, which means his father isn’t there. 

There’s only one person in the world that his mother would bother to slow down for and Caelum silently activates the wards on the office; Mother will assume its Uncle in here, not him. That, and there’s the eavesdropping ward his Father had shown him (after procuring an oath that he would not tell his mother of them, not that she could use them anyway because they require Lestrange blood) which could really save his skin here. 

“-be willing to sully their lines, but the Lestranges shall remain pure. My line will remain pure.”

“Your son’s marriage to a halfblood would not result in impure children.” Lord Riddle’s tone is patronising, the kind of dry drawl that comes with explaining a concept to an ignorant child for the thousandth time, but his mother doesn’t register it in the slightest, too wound up between the topic of blood purity and pleasing Lord Riddle. She’s a spring bound to snap; Caelum has every intention of being far, far away when she actually goes off on one. 

“Any drop of muggle is impure,” Mother declares and Caelum can just picture her; hair wild and eyes wilder, chin tilted high and proud. The same disdainful look that has haunted all his earlier memories right up to the present day. He needs only remember how she’d reacted to learning he was going to Potter Place those handful of years ago (the vase, the screaming, she hadn’t even heard him out on why he was going) to know he can’t breathe a word of what has happened. While it’s clear Lord Riddle is all for Caelum’s association with Potter (he daren’t not think of a word beyond association, not when his own feelings are still warring with what he’s been taught and now there’s fucking Hurst in the mix too), his mother would never accept it.

“Soon enough, Bella, there will be no blood passing through your line unless this issue is solved.” 

He doesn’t hear Mother’s response to that one; they’ve walked too far down the corridor for the ward to pick up their words anymore. 

Caelum slumps a little against the wall, exhaling long and slow because he’s managed to go unnoticed. Which is a sham in and of itself. What kind of Heir needs to hide like a scared child in their own home? 

In Potter’s apartment, there’d been none of that hesitation. None of that worry that he’ll be hexed or cursed for being in the wrong place or associating with the wrong people or for failing to meet some other ridiculous expectation. And it is ridiculous, he can see that now. 

He doesn’t have a fucking clue why Potter has her own apartment but, seeing how comfortable the usually tense girl had looked within it’s small rooms, well, it’s given Caelum an idea.

He’s going to move out. Of course, his place will be significantly better than Potter’s, will actually be on a reputable street where he doesn’t have to worry what kind of creature his neighbours are. But he’s had quite enough of holding his breath in his own house. 

  
  


He doesn’t floo back to Potter’s apartment; that’d be the height of stupidity because their Floo might not track where people have come from, but it’s certainly looks at where they’re going. Caelum wouldn’t wish his mother on anyone and he dislikes almost everyone. He just... doesn’t dislike Potter. She’s the first (the only) person to actually put up with his attitude because she wants someone to talk to, someone who shares her interests, who understands. He’d thought her a softhearted fool at first but now... it is nice, having someone to talk to.

They’ve come a long way from that first disastrous attempt at small talk.   
  


First item on today’s agenda; secure an appropriate apartment. 

Second; figure out what the fuck is going on with Lionel Hurst and if there’s any way that Caelum can pull Potter’s attention away from him.


	7. Chapter 7

“You’re joking!” 

Harry keeps her head held high, methodically licking at the ice cream (vanilla and toffee crunch because the colours are as complimentary as the flavours) and ignoring the way in which Archie is full out gawking at her.

It’s a beautiful summer day, the first one of August, and she has zero intention of hiding the events of the previous day from her cousin. Not when he still may have to play at being Harry.

One more year and then everything can revert back to how it was. Harry can become ‘Harry’ again, Rigel can disappear into the aether, and Archie can claim his grades under his own name. A fair few people are going to be upset with their duplicity, but not as many as there would be if they discovered the real truth (never mind the fact she’d be launched into Azkaban for it all). 

“Hurst and Lestrange?” Archie asks, delightedly aghast, leaning forward over the table to stare at her. His ice cream, of course, is shuffled to the side so that he doesn’t risk getting the pink and green combo on his news robes. Why Archie thinks mint chocolate chip and strawberry go together, Harry’ll never know. “Like, both of them? At the same time? Harry, you tricky devil!”

“Excuse me?” 

“I mean, it’s obvious that they’ve both had the hots for you for a while,” Archie ploughs on with his train of thought, a seeker after the snitch and paying no mind to any of the bludgers whizzing around his head. Harry checks the muffling charm is still in place; that Half-Blood Prince character may have performed sacrilege by defiling a perfectly good potions book, but at least their ideas had been useful. 

“It was actually almost painful to watch Lestrange at the last ball try following you with his eyes alone while pretending he wasn’t doing just that- hey. Can you maybe do something about the fact he seems happy to set me on fire with the power of his glare alone? This is your fault; you met him first as Rigel.” 

Harry snorts, not bothering to explain that, to do so would be pointless when Rigel is going to rip the bandaid off their ruse and flee into the mists before they can catch him. Caelum will realise and that will be that. Problem solved. 

“Don’t be silly, Archie. Caelum wouldn’t have been looking at me in a ball full of purebloods.”

“Oh, he definitely was. I only noticed because I was looking for it, and he wasn’t too bad at hiding it. But, man, once you notice it, you can’t ignore it. He’s lucky Lady Lestrange is clearly too busy trying to eye-fuck an uninterested Riddle-“

“Archie!” That is the very last thing she wants to be thinking about right now! Urgh, Riddle is evil (admittedly, evil with a cause and probably doesn’t seem evil to those he’s working for but from her perspective, as Rigel who has gone up against his madness again and again, he’s evil). “I do not want to think about Riddle and the word ‘sex’ being used in the same sentence, never mind actually discussing the two in a linked context.” 

“Well, it’s a good thing that it’s never gonna happen; I swear, he’s like a reptile. His genes and Bellatrix Lestrange’s, together? Yeah, I’ll be leaving the country if that little devil ever spawned. How lucky we are that he’s too busy trying to ruin your lives, that is, Rigel and Harry’s, to give thought to his own offspring.” 

“Speaking of offspring,” Harry tries, desperately grabbing for the first change in topic because considering Riddle’s devil spawn is a horrific idea and she doesn’t want Archie continuing down this conversation and making a connecting between children and Harry, who most certainly does not want any, “how’s Regulus’ curse coming along?” 

Archie brightens, launching into a rambling tirade about his grandmother being a bitch and how difficult the curse is to unravel, especially without Regulus knowing what he’s up to. Archie is having to work from his father’s second hand knowledge (and the medical reports he can get his hands on as the Black Head), but her cousin is confident he can fix this. Even if it’s not something he’s studied in his infectious disease courses. 

Harry listens intently, because it is interesting and the potential of Archie’s discoveries being applied to potions is indeed there. She only wishes she’d thought to bring a notebook in order to record all of his key ideas. Hopefully, Archie will have written all this down and she can review his own notes. 

As such, Harry almost, _almost_ , misses Caelum Lestrange striding through Diagon and then turning off into Knockturn Alley.

  
Oh hell.


	8. Chapter 8

News reaches his ears of the little lordling with the pretty blue eyes venturing into their neck of the woods just in time. Armed with an excuse to wiggle out of Marek’s ribbing, Leo makes for the entrance by Knockturn, greeting a series of different faces as he goes. 

Now that the whole ordeal with Claw and Scar has been wrapped up with a nice little bow, it almost feels like he can relax in the Alleys now. Marek’s even been good enough to not challenge him this month. Leo hesitates to think it, but perhaps now he can just focus on his lass. And the lordling he seems to have acquired through association. 

He has pretty eyes, Leo’ll give him that. Though if he wants to really play with him and Harry, they’ll have to get him trained up. It has been three years since word first reached his ears of Harry consorting with Lestrange and he’s not left, so he doubts the other’s going anywhere anytime soon. It’s Harry’s fault; she shouldn’t make herself so interesting if she didn’t want boys following her like adoring cruppies. 

He spots the head of dark hair near Borgin’s place, a disgruntled scowl to his lips and the fool has no situational awareness, does he? 

Leo slides up beside Lestrange just in time to catch the wrist of the scamp who’s got his hand in the little lordling’s pocket. A quick look at the kid (blond hair, hazel eyes and a whirlpool of freckles centred around his nose) is all it takes for him to place the boy as Jasper. 

“Not this one, Jaz. He’s one of ours.”

“What are you- you little brat!” Watching the way Lestrange’s face twists so easily into a scowl when he realises what was about to happen, Leo can acknowledge Harry’s assessment of the other has been spot on. He’s pretty until he opens his mouth. Oh well, they’ll just have to keep him in a state of breathless excitement. He’d looked very attractive last night, with his flushed cheeks and pupils blown wide. The noises he’d made hadn’t been words, which might account for why they’d sounded oh so much better than whatever he’s spewing up now.

Beside him, Jasper looks between Leo’s hand on his wrist and the fuming Lestrange, frowning. “You sure, your Highness?”

“Positive, Jaz. He’s Harry’s potioneering friend.” At the mention of Harry, the little tyke lights up, reassessing Lestrange before nodding his head.

“I’ll go tell the others. They’ll think he’s an easy mark if not.” 

Jasper takes off after he’s done speaking, disappearing into the crowds with the ease of long practice. He leaves Leo standing by Lestrange, the lordling spluttering with indignation. Ah, Harry has brought them quite the character, hasn’t she? The last uppity Pureblood he’s dealt with had been Regulus Black though, with him, they were on semi-even ground; what with Leo needing a ward master to sort the newly rebuilt Phoenix and Black dealing with a paying customer who also happened to be the son of an Aldermaster. Along with having a title to lead a few thousand people too. Kinda makes a fella important. 

This with Lestrange though? The other’s got no idea what he’s tumbled into. He might have a Book of Gold family name to back him, but that don’t mean shit down here. 

“You shouldn’t wander ‘round these parts on your own, lordling.” Leo declares with a roguish grin, throwing one arm over the other’s shoulders, gamely rolling with the aggressive but sloppy elbow that comes at his ribs. 

“Don’t touch me-“

“Not what you said last night,” Leo chirps, feeling his magic warm and then there’s Harry on Lestrange’s other side, her arms trapping Leo’s hostage from the left. “Good timing, Lass.”

“Just why are we kidnapping Lestrange? I didn’t realise you needed money enough to try ransoming him.” 

“Potter! Don’t even joke about such a thing-“

“I think, lass, it’s time our pretty Pureblood got a taste for the real Alleys back here.” 

That Lestrange comes willingly (his protest is more a token to meet the expectations of others at this point) is certainly a step in the right direction. He can see why Harry decided to put time and effort into the other, discounting her need to talk passionately about potions that is. Because Leo could certainly talk potions with his girl, but he can’t drum up the same level of passion as what Harry does. Exposing this highly strung, uppity Pureblood to how the other half (the other ninety percent) lives is going to be great fun.

Leo leans in closer to Lestrange, just to look ‘round at Harry in truth but it has the side effect of making him tense up something terrible. Ah, teasing him is going to be so much fun. 

“What do you think, Harry? Should we show him a real duel first, the Phoenix, or explain the inner workings of the Alleys?” 

“Duel,” Harry says without a moment to consider the idea and he wonders just how long she’s been waiting to drag Lestrange down here. The boy’s home life is nothing to brag about and, in the Alleys, they become one another’s family. It’ll be good for him, Leo decides. And whatever is good for Lestrange will be good for Harry and, perhaps in time, Leo himself.

He doesn’t miss that Lestrange has snaked his hand up at some point to take one of Harry’s in his own, their joined fingers now half hidden by the Pureblood‘s side like he daren’t let the world see. Leo could push, but he doesn’t want to scare the boy off yet; hunting him down would be a chore. He’s just like when he first met Harry; a bit of a loner, someone who needs friends, a workaholic. Only, crank those first two traits up to eleven and throw in a whole dose of entitlement. Had Lestrange been worse than this before Harry got to him? Maybe. 

Ah, they’ll find him a role. If Regulus Black, who is a notorious SOW supporter, can find it in himself to work in the Alleys, then Caelum Lestrange, whose best friend is a halfblood though he’d die before admitting it, can certainly carve a place. He might even come to enjoy it; Leo’ll certainly enjoy having Harry (and Lestrange by association) here.

The only downside is the sheer ammunition this is gonna give Rispah.   
  



	9. Chapter 9

They’re free-duelling down here.

Oh, Caelum had been aware that there’s more to the backwater slums beyond Knockturn; Potter’d very rudely educated him on that the very first day they’d gone out to dinner after all. But there’s a difference between a few more shops and a whole fucking culture.

Bloody free-duelling. And what’s more, they’re good at it. 

Hurst has shed his shirt during the intermission, Potter temporarily spelling the sleeves of her own top away and Caelum doesn’t know where to look (that’s a lie; he knows exactly where to look). Suddenly, the fact Potter finds Hurst attractive makes sense. And hell, he’s now reevaluating his ‘type’. 

Lying to himself doesn’t work anymore; he’s liked Potter for a while. But that’d been when he knew she was good at potions, had strong magic, and wasn’t put off by his abrasive attitude. Hell, he’d even suggest she maybe enjoys that about him. Caelum knows he likes it, the banter between them, that is. So yes, he likes that.

But there’s something incredibly seductive about the vicious determination on Potter’s face, the flash of her knife and the flare of her magic. There’s something fascinating in watching her arms move and the whipcord muscles flex beneath her skin. Merlin, he doesn’t think anyone else will ever measure up to just how damn attractive Potter is in that moment.

Though Hurst is making a damn good attempt.

He’s got more muscles than is necessary for a wizard but, with how he’s going at Potter with magic and a knife and Merlin-damned hand to hand combat, it’s obvious why it’s there. He moves like he’s in complete control, as if he’s two steps ahead of Potter but Caelum isn’t sure that’s possible; Potter moves so quick but Hurst is always there, meeting her blow for blow. 

The duel is blatantly illegal and it suddenly makes sense why Potter didn’t so much as flinch at finding out Tate has some less than legal produce. Given she’s been running around the Alleys back here, free-duelling with a boy that calls himself a king (a boy who everyone else calls king), he shouldn’t be surprised. 

He doubts her father is aware. And to think, Caelum had thought _he_ was the bad influence in her life. 

And, as much as it grates on him to think it... Potter wasn’t lying this morning. If he’d started an actual fight with Hurst, the other would have won. Caelum is a good duellist, but he hasn’t trained necessarily hard for it. Just enough to be considered good (enough to recognise his mother will _never_ be impressed so what’s the fucking point). Hurst looks like he’s lived and breathed free-duelling his entire life. 

When they pause for another break, sweat glistening on their skin in the summer sun, chests fluttering with each breath they take, Caelum can’t tear his eyes away.

_Fuck_. He’s already in trouble with these fucked up feelings for Potter. Adding another to the problem isn’t a way to solve the issue. 

If last night is any indication, it’d be a rewarding problem though. 

His mother is going to _murder_ him. How fucked is it that he doesn’t care? He’s moved out of Dartmoor now, has an apartment even if he’s only had the keys to the place for the last half-house. His father would rather see Caelum involved with a halfblood than pass the Lestrange title on to his own brother, no matter what Bellatrix Lestrange has to say in the matter. Hell, the fact his wife is so against it may push Rodolphus Lestrange into going through with it. Yeah, his home life is _fucked_ , moving on.

Potter wants this nameless thing between them to be with the three of them, despite the fact Caelum has never so much as spoken to Hurst in anything but passing. Sure, they’ve been in a drunk threesome, but there’s a huge difference between that and a three way relationship openly acknowledge by the public. It’s not illegal, for all that it’s gossiped about and frowned over. Hell, a fair portion of society had looked at Potter’s parents and Sirius Black and wondered. People would never stop talking about it, not that Caelum cares. People are gonna assume shit no matter what; he’ll just lay the ugly truths out for them. How’s it his fault he’s so gorgeous that he’s managed to bag not just Potter, but Hurst too? Who’s apparently a king to these plebeians down here? 

“What did you think?” Harriet Potter, Heiress to House Potter, the finest potioneer still in her teens, and a damn good free-dueller asks. Her green eyes are bright in the daylight, not in the same way Hurst’s are but they’re both relatively good looking. He’ll make up for the rest of it on that front. Any relationship Caelum’s in is going to be uncommonly beautiful simply because he’s in it. 

Potter has no right to look that good with a layer of sweat on her face. Not outside of bed sheets anyway. 

She needs to break off that ‘not very serious at all’ betrothal with Black. He never thought he’d say this about a half-blood, but she’s far too good for his fucker of a pureblood cousin. 

“Harry’s amazing, isn’t she?” Hurst cuts in, wrapping one arm around her waist and squeezing her to his side, as if he has any right to smear his sweat all over her. 

Caelum doesn’t bother with a verbal response, just cups Potter’s face with one hand, the other going to her waist, and he kisses her.   
  



	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** smut (we are now an explicit fic, oops)
> 
> It’s been a long time since I wrote smut and I didn’t exactly start this with the intention of doing so, but here we are. 
> 
> Smut will continue into the next chapter and maybe the one beyond it? We’ll see.

Harry side-alongs Caelum to her flat, Leo following a second after. 

For a moment, she’s back in Dartmoor, looking into the other boy’s worried face with pupils a pinprick in the icy blue of his irises, listening to him realise she can’t apparate (she could, but it was one more illegal thing to admit to and she hadn’t been about to give him the ammunition). 

In truth, she’s not quite sure why she’s retreated to her flat, not sure why her first instinct on having Caelum press his lips to hers had prompted her mind to think of the flat. Her magic had swirled with the idea and the movement hadn’t even been a conscious thought. It’s strange; she had always disregarded the idea of sex, of intimacy. But, then again, she’s done that with most things in her life; friendship, duelling, all the other subjects- drinking, for a recent example. Not to say she would over indulge on the latter again; the loss of coherent thought had been jarring and too risky to attempt a second time. Not when the ruse is still ongoing. 

“Head outta the clouds, Harry,” Leo breathes in her ear, teeth nipping at the shell and Harry jolts, one of Caelum’s hands still on her waist, though it’s shifted from the punishing grip that comes with steadying himself post-apparition to a tight press. Her ass of a friend (boyfriend? lover? Why is putting a label to anything so difficult?) scowls at Leo and then he’s kissing her again. 

It’s not like the peck they’d just shared in the Phoenix’s Courtyard. This is much more heated, lips pressing against hers, teeth nipping, tongue sliding along and past her lips and Harry’s aware her own movement is sloppy, aware it isn’t as smooth as Caelum or Leo’s but she’s never done this before. Her first attempts at free-duelling, the first time she held a stirring rod, both required practice to perfect. 

She assumes this will be the same.

Harry applies a little suction to Caelum’s tongue, hearing him groan and pull her a little closer, the evidence that he is very much aroused pressing up against her stomach and that’s a little intimidating when sober. It’s not something she hasn’t handled already though, even if the memory is a hazy blur of pleasure.

Their lips break apart with a wet smack and Leo’s right there, tilting her head to a side and swallowing her gasp down with a kiss of his own. His lips are rougher than Caelum’s, the skin torn from toying with his lip and his tongue is a hot press against her own. She doesn’t want to break that contact, but Caelum’s got hold of her shirt and is lifting so the contact either breaks or the shirt isn’t coming off. They separate just enough for the cloth to come over her head and Leo is helpfully already shirtless, which just leaves Caelum.

Her magic seems to agree. 

It pushes at the pureblood, forcing him down onto her bed and the shirt just, disappears. Vanished or maybe her magic’s decayed it out of existence, Harry’s not sure. She’s not sure she cares either. 

“Potter! That was ac...” Caelum trails off, pupils blow wide because Harry is now sitting on his lap, her hips grinding down against his and whatever the hell he’d been about to say is lost in the gasp she draws from his chest. 

Leo’s still behind her, kneeling on the bed and both of his hands are clasping her hips, fingertips brushing against hipbones. 

“You okay with this, Harry?” Is she okay with this? Is she okay with Caelum underneath her, fixated on her with the same intensity he’d only ever regarded potions with? Is she okay with the blistering heat of Leo’s hands, one at her hip and the other slowly working its way up her ribs and leaving goosebumps in its wake? Is she okay with the way her blood is racing, heart pounding and stomach tightening?

“Yeah,” she breathes, rocking harder against Caelum as he grips her thighs and implores her to move. 

“Lestrange-“

“Don’t fucking start,” the other boy groans, hips stuttering up against hers and Harry wants those pants off. She wants her pants off, Leo’s off. No more clothes. 

At least her magic leaves them with the bedsheets. 

“just checking. Consent is sexy,” Leo says with a laugh, that rising hand now cupping one of her breasts and thumb flicking across the nipple in a way that makes her back arch. She can feel Caelum’s cock against her inner thigh and yet, for all the impatience he’s displayed in the past, he seems happy enough to just keep an iron grip on her thighs. It has Harry reaching to take him in her hand, determinedly overriding the muscle memory that insists on a stirring rod grip, in order to guide him into her. For all that she’s wet, it’s a tight fit, one that has her arching a bit more, head thrown back but that might be so Leo can take full advantage of her unprotected neck. His tongue is lavishing the skin by her pulse point, both hands on her breasts now and it feels _really_ good. 

It’s obvious why people do this now, though she can’t picture doing it with anyone else. Can’t see anyone other than Caelum sitting himself up to press their chests together; can’t imagine anyone other than Leo bracketing her in with biceps, his hands now tracing the curve of Caelum’s ribs instead of squeezing her breasts. Caelum grunting deeper than when he’s brewing, Leo breathing harsher than when he’s duelling. Two of the best elements of Harry’s life where she doesn’t have to be so careful, two of the people she has her freedoms tied to. 

Harry tenses, clenching her muscles and Caelum _whimpers_. Actually whimpers. She hadn’t even been aware he could make that noise. She wants to do this a thousand times more, coax that noise out again and again and again. 

Leo leans over her shoulder, catching Caelum’s lips with his own in a wet kiss that Harry just can’t look away from, her heart stuttering and she actually stops to stare. Because _oh_ , that’s doing funny things to her insides in a way no potion has ever managed and she likes it. Gods, if she could bottle this emotion-

“Potter, _fuck_ , don’t stop.” 

“Harry,” Leo breathes, firm and instant. And oh, he’s not talking to her.

Caelum’s eyes are hooded, the iced blue mere slits and his lips are flushed a fascinating shade of red, akin to a blood replenisher. 

And her name is as satisfying to hear on his lips as she’d always imagined it would be.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m gonna do 3 outsider POVs after the next Leo & Caelum chapters; who do you want to see and why?


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warning:** smut
> 
> Leo & Harry POV - make is sexy!
> 
> Caelum POV - make it soft~ (next chapter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it’s the 18th for me over here in England.

Despite the additional person, Leo is finding that threesomes are a lot of work. There’s just so much to keep track of: what Harry’s doing with her hands (clinging to Lestrange’s shoulders); whose hips are moving against whose (Harry’s rocking back and forth between the two of them, giving him something to grind against even if it’s not consistent); what he should be doing (not a clue, he’s winging it). 

But Lestrange has peaked, not quite dropping back because he’s far too upper class for that, but sprawling once he’s laid out on the bedsheets all the same. 

Walking his open palms up and down Harry’s sides, Leo presses another kiss, softer, to her neck this time. He doesn’t remove his lips once he’s done though, leaving them to rest on that tender junction between shoulder and neck. 

“Can you go another round, or do you need a rest?” he asks, breath ghosting across Harry’s skin in a way he knows will send shivers down her spine if she lets it. He can feel the magic in the air, Harry’s assertive power spilling across the room like a tsunami engulfing the two of them, leaving Leo and Lestrange adrift in her wake. It’s never been more apparent that she has more magic than them, drowns them in it, than it is now. And, Leo’s no push-over in that department (given the reactions he’s been prodding out of Lestrange since they met back up, he’d put the other boy not far off himself too). 

“You haven’t-“

“Didn’t ask about me, lass,” Leo laughs, soft and calm. She’s so cute though, worried he’s not got his rocks off yet even though she’s fresh off one round with Lestrange. Maybe this’d be easier if it was a genuine three way in terms of emotion as well. Leo’s happy for it to be as such, someday. Right now, he doesn’t know the other well enough to go further than a few heated kisses and touches though.

Well, they’ve only got the rest of their lives to see if it’ll work out. 

“I asked about you.” 

“I’m good.” Harry says, resolute and determined. So cute. Leo tightens his grip when his hands come down her ribs again, holding her hips tight.

“Lay on our exhausted Pureblood, Harry—“ they’ll have to work on Lestrange’s stamina, unless he’s just being an ass to see how they’ll manage with him sprawled out there. “—and tilt you ass up a bit.” 

Harry does as he asks and Leo offers Lestrange’s glare a returning wink. If the other’s doing this to be an ass, then so be it. If he’s genuinely exhausted (unlikely), then it’ll give him the motivation to get himself up to stuff. Quick. 

She’s still tight, still wet, but the groan he draws out of her is different from this angle. He stills, working his palms up the stretch of Harry’s back before he comes back down to cradle her hips again. 

“Still okay?”

“Merlin, it’s awful just listening to you. She can take it.”

“Harry doesn’t have to if she doesn’t want to,” Leo snaps, watching Lestrange’s lips quirk up in a smirk and _oh_ , he wanted a reaction. _Hell_ , why does Harry like this guy again? Worse, why is Leo starting to like him? 

Luckily enough, Harry takes the initiative, stretching out to press her lips up against the pureblood’s jaw. There’s one thing he and Lestrange have in common; neither of them can resist Harry in the slightest. He’s soon catching her lips with his, cupping the side of her face with one hand, the other at her ribs as support. Leo rolls his hips, feeling Harry clench around him before she rocks back, encouraging him to keep moving.   
  


From there, it’s a chorus of wet slaps, breathless gasps and pleasurable grunts. 

At some point, Harry gives up on kissing Lestrange’s mouth, her arms wrapping around his shoulders like she can do nothing but _cling_ from the pleasure Leo’s giving her. Her every stuttered breath crashes against the other’s neck, hitching into whines when one of Lestrange’s hands slides it’s way down to play with her clit. 

Harry’s sharp cry, her gasp of their names is what carries him over the edge, feeling her thighs tremble against his as he finishes. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:** post-smut thoughts and discussion.

Caelum has never once stuck around after sex. 

It is not something he has ever considered. His sexual education had, of course, come from his father. Not a great surprise; his mother had only ever bothered to teach him how to deal with his enemies, while his father’s lessons had always revolved around the future of their House. A wife, in his father’s eyes, was property to further the family name one more generation. A lover was for sexual pleasure alone. 

He’s long since established that what he’d been taught was wrong, but he’d never seen the need to explore just what a lover was supposed to be. 

It’s mid afternoon on a hot summer day and he’s in ~~Potter’s~~ Harry’s plebeian flat, the girl herself still sprawled out on his chest from where they’ve just brought her to orgasm. He’s never once been the one underneath before, though he must admit, the sight of the girl on top of him, rolling her hips to match his, had been spectacular. Almost as good as her brewing (she’s had practice with the latter and it’s ridiculous how he’s already assuming he’ll be helping her better herself on top of him). 

By Merlin, even having her sprawled across his chest as Hurst fucked her had been nice (sexy beyond on belief). That cry she’d muffled against his neck, the way she’d clung to him as if he were the only thing grounding her... it isn’t something he’s likely to forget anytime soon. 

Hurst doesn’t quite throw himself to a side, but there’s a bit more effort to the movement than a lacklustre roll. He’s lying on his back too now, a thin sliver of space between himself and Caelum and a dopey as fuck grin on his face. 

Caelum quickly schools his own features to ensure no such expression is twisting his own visage. Once he is relatively assured others won’t assume him to be high as a snitch, Caelum turns his attentions to the girl lying across his chest. Her legs are still bracketing his own, the swell of her breasts pressing up against his chest, and arms loose around his shoulders from where she’d been clinging. The sting in his shoulders suggests she was holding on with more than just her fingers and he can only be thankful Harry is a potioneer; her nails will be clipped short and kept clean, so the scratches won’t be too bad. 

“You can imbue multiple high level potions but not retain control of your limbs after two orgasms?” he drawls, voice dry and utterly at odds with the hand he slowly strokes down her ribcage. It’s fine, Hurst is on the other side and is too busy basking in the after glow to notice. If she had long hair, he’d probably be toying with a strand right now but she doesn’t. Reaching up to play with her hair would be far too overt. He wants to do it anyway. 

“”Who needs control of their limbs?” Harry grumbles into his neck. Then, as if to underline her point and slap three exclamation marks upon the end, her magic just picks her up and then gently positions her between him and Hurst. _What the actual_ _fuck_. 

Hurst doesn’t even seem surprised, just throws an arm over her waist and peppers a kiss to her shoulder. As if that level of wandless magic is to be expected and is completely normal for Harry. 

Caelum recalls the creation of the Liberespirare potion they’d made together, how she’d imbued a double batch and it hadn’t put her on the floor as he’d expected it to. He’d love to know what her level of magical expenditure is. 

He wants to spend days upon days with her in a potions lab, figuring out if there’s any potion they can’t make together (he doubts that there is one that can flummox the two of them).

Rolling ever so slowly onto his side, Caelum stretches out a leg until it crosses over Harry’s shin, knocking against one of her feet and she huffs a tired smile. Hurst is watching him with that smug, all-knowing grin ( _bastard_ ). Just to be contrary, Caelum catches one of Harry’s hands and weaves their masterful, potion-making fingers together. Fuck Hurst, thinking he can’t do this. What’s so hard about languishing in bed post-sex anyway? Especially when Harry’s skin is glistening with leftover sweat and the smile on her face makes it look like she’s just completed a ridiculously hard potion but is thrilled to have undertaken the challenge. As if it were something unquestionably worth her time and effort.

“Lestrange has news,” Hurst croons quietly, hiding his smile behind the curve of Harry’s shoulder but Caelum stops paying attention when Harry opens her pretty eyes to look at him. 

“You do?” And the genuine interest is what’s making him come undone. 

“I bought a flat,” Caelum says stiffly, looking away as Harry’s face brightens up so he doesn’t react. It’s no big deal, a lot of heir move out of the family home until they inherit it later. Just because she’s aware of what kind of home-life he has doesn’t make this any different. “But how the fuck do you know that?” This, of course, is directed at Hurst. It’s only been an hour. Maybe two. 

“It’s my job to know these things. You’ll get used to it.” 

Dear Merlin, he hopes not. 

“We need to go pee.” _What_.

“What?” Caelum parrots the thought in his head aloud, looking to Harry in question. It seems Hurst hasn’t even considered figuring out what the girl means, he’s just got up to go and do what she’s said. 

“It reduces the risk of a UTI.” Caelum’s brain translates the abbreviation and he splutters.

“What are you implying?!”

Harry continues as if she hasn’t heard him, sitting herself up and stretching, arms over her head and back arching. Why on earth is it so hard to pull his gaze away? Caelum lazily traces the instructions for a blood replenisher onto the exposed flesh of her thigh, head pillowed on his arm.

“I need to take a contraceptive potion too.” 

Shit, yeah, that one is important.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honour of Tamari’s wonderful chapter update for their Caelum/Harry fic, here’s a short chappy of two other people seeing Caelum/Harry and coming to right (and wrong) conclusions.

He’s got Pucey over for the afternoon with every intention of drinking the rest of his day off away, if only because he can. Marcus has it all planned out, so finding Harriet Potter standing in the same corridor as his flat feels like a sucker punch to the gut. Because there’s only one reason why the girl would seek him out. 

Pushing down the urge to just demand what’s wrong (because Pucey is right behind him and no one else can ever know where his mother disappeared to), Marcus affixes a cocky smile to his face and covers the last bit of corridor between them. That Potter twists to look at him when he’s only feet away with surprise in her eyes makes him falter, just the slightest.

“What’re you doing here, Potter?” He feels Pucey perk up with interest behind him and it’s gonna be a bitch to explain how he knows the half-blood girl on sight. Sure, the other’s aware that he regularly meets up with Archie at their Quidditch matches, but that doesn’t exactly cover how he recognises the young lady with just a glance. And she is a young lady, Marcus realises with a start. Same age as Archie, isn’t she? So, she’ll be seventeen now. Huh. Same age and same face; part of him wants to know how the hell she, Archie and ‘Rigel’ all look the same. The other half is luxuriating in blissful ignorance. 

“Flint,” she greets with a nod of her head, green eyes peering up at him from beneath the lenses of her glasses. Now that he looks a bit closer though, he can see she’s not actually outside his flat, just leaning against the wall next to it because his new neighbour across the hall has their door open. And hadn’t that been a shit surprise? Returning from buying as much alcohol as he can carry to be meet with the landlord saying there was another buyer and the flat opposite his is occupied now. Just when he’d gotten used to being the only occupant on this floor as well. 

“I’m waiting for the wards to be taken down,” she admits, waving to the other flat with a careless gesture of her hand. Marcus follows the movement with his eyes, just in time to catch the Lestrange Heir, of all people, appearing at the door. 

There’s an awkward moment as they look each other over; Lestrange glaring disdainfully at him and Pucey, Marcus staring at Lestrange before he looks back to Potter, and Pucey full out gawking at the lot of them. At least this explains which heir had the money to purchase the other flat on this floor, but it sure as fuck doesn’t explain why Potter’s waiting for Lestrange of all people. It’s worrying. Marcus tells himself he’s worried for his secret, for the upset Archie’ll go through if Lestrange is somehow tricking Potter into something. He only vaguely remembers the two interacting at a gala some years ago, so they’re not complete strangers. But this?

“Wards are down,” Lestrange grunts, leaning against the door frame to better stare at, not Potter (unbelievably), but Marcus and Pucey. “Flint. Pucey.” 

“Lestrange,” Marcus says, simply for lack of anything else to say. He doesn’t expect Potter to pull a potion from her sleeve, a knife from her other one. She hands the vial to Lestrange, pricking her finger with the blade and allowing a single droplet of blood to drip into the liquid. Marcus can only stare harder as Lestrange then repeats the process. 

“I noticed you haven’t added Leo’s blood.”

“Tch. I don’t know him like I do you, Brat.” Lestrange sneers, disappearing back into his flat again as Potter continues to lean against the wall, apparently seeing no problem with the fact Lestrange claims to know her. In fact, she looks more comfortable conversing with him than she did answering Marcus’ question earlier. 

“Er, Potter?” Pucey begins, a hesitant lilt to his voice. “What are you doing?” With Lestrange? With that potion? There are a number of different conversations that could be had here, hundreds of potential answers. Potter just blinks her big green eyes and hums a little.

“I’ve made a blood ward potion; Caelum wanted to ward his flat in a way that he could control so we’re sorting that before we bother unpacking.” 

Before _we_ bother unpacking? 

Has he stepped into a distortion mirror today? Nothing is making sense at the moment and Marcus would quite like for this to not become the new norm. Having Lestrange across the corridor from him is less than ideal but the other is pretty abrupt socially so at least he wouldn’t have to play nice either.

Lestrange moving in across the hall with Harriet Potter, of all people, is a whole other Quidditch game. It’s like trying to catch a bludger instead of the snitch. 

The door suddenly glows a deep, unsettling red, then everything returns to normal, Lestrange’s distant call of “wards are up, get your ass in here, half-blood!” ringing out through the open front door. 

Marcus isn’t sure what he’s trying and failing to wrap his head around more: Potter’s made a blood ward in potion form? She’s on first name terms with Lestrange? Lestrange regards her highly enough to include her in his blood wards? Lestrange is putting his whole flat under a blood ward?

“Potter,” he says, deadly serious because this is the girl that has given his mother her life back, never-mind that it was the favour he’d claimed from Rigel. “Are you okay?” Does she actually want to be in Lestrange’s company? Is she here under her own free will? If not, Lestrange sure as hell has some brass balls, targeting the daughter of Head Auror James Potter. 

Blinking at him and looking remarkably like a baby deer, Harriet Potter tilts her head to a side and shrugs. “I’m fine. Caelum’s just being grumpy because I won’t tell him how I made the blood ward potion yet. I’m going to sell it commercially and any family that voted against half-bloods going to Hogwarts is going to pay through the nose for it.” She smiles, as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, as if she’s a baby unicorn in human form and not a vindictive little bitch. That’s not going to make her any friends. 

He doesn’t doubt the old families would be desperate enough for such an easily accessible thing to cough up the cash anyway. 

Watching Potter walk ever so calmly into Lestrange’s flat and quietly close the door behind her, Marcus shares a look with an equally bamboozled Pucey. 

Good. At least he’s not the only person questioning what the fuck just happened. 


	14. Chapter 14

“Run that by me again.”

Harry, his darling girl, his wonderful eldest who has never so much as looked at another with romantic ideals before, frowns just like she did when he brushed aside her interest in potions. A huge mistake on his part, one he’ll spend the rest of his life making up for because it isn’t just a phase, this is what she wants to do. He should have been supporting that from the beginning, fuck any previous bad memories the subject inspired. 

Maybe it wasn’t the subject that had put him off; maybe he’s got some seer’s blood from his mum’s side. Maybe he’s foreseen what Harry’s interest in potions would lead to. 

“I want to have Caelum and Leo over for tea please.”

Maybe if Harry hadn’t taken to potions, she wouldn’t have met those two. Two. Two boys.

“Are you planning on brewing a difficult potion?” James asks, mentally running through the hardest ones he knows but he can’t even think of one that requires two brewers, never mind whatever monstrosity would require three. His darling little fawn, down in the basement with the younger Hurst and the Lestrange heir. It doesn’t matter if the one time he’d come over, there’d been a single moment of sympathy for the spawn of Bellatrix. It doesn’t matter if he’s met younger Hurst’s family and knows they’re good sorts. 

“Huh?” Harry blinks, shaking her head. “No, we’ve not got any brewing planned. Leo’ll be too busy and Caelum’s still grumpy that I won’t teach him the blood ward potion.” Ah, yes, that little doozy of a creation. While James is exceptionally proud that Harry’s made it explicitly clear who she’s willing to sell to, and who she’s going to massively over-charge based on who fucked over her chances of a Hogwarts education, it does worry him. It’s definitely going to make her a few enemies. But, she’s got them to back her. And James’ll always back her. 

“Then, why have them over for tea?”

“Because you always said you wanted to meet whoever I’m in a relationship with?”

James’ll back her on anything _but_ that. Relationship? His Harry? In a relationship and she wants to introduce to him– wait. 

“Wait, why’s Lestrange coming then?” James has met Lionel Hurst over dinner already; he’s a good lad that is nowhere near good enough for his baby girl. The very thought that she might actually be in a relationship with him is almost more than his poor heart can take.

“Because he’s part of the relationship? We’re a trio.”

“–mes. James?” 

James comes back to himself sitting in the living room, his darling wife watching him with obvious concern in her beautiful green eyes. He can’t quite remember sitting down to rest his eyes but he must of done, must have stopped for a moment and he just had the most awful, horrible dream. Nightmare really, it was a nightmare. 

Harry in a relationship with younger Hurst – bad.

Harry in a relationship with the Lestrange Heir – worse.

Harry in a relationship with both? At the same time? Disastrous. 

“Oh, Lily! I had the most awful dream!” It really had been terrible; Harry acting blasé about the fact she was asking to bring Lestrange and Hurst over for tea to introduce them as, as her what? Boyfriends? How horrific. Perhaps the most unrealistic thing about the dream had been Harry even asking; the last time both of the two boys- no, wait. Harry’s seventeen. They won’t even be boys anymore. 

A grimace crosses James’ face as he realises they’ll both be young men now. Sweet Merlin.

At least Dream Harry had asked about bringing the young men over; she’d just invited them in when they’d last visited, only giving him a heads up moments in advance. 

“I don’t doubt it, now go clean up, the boys will be here shortly?”

“The boys?” James repeats, the two words echoing again and again in his head, like a broken record skipping back to the starting track after only two seconds of play time. Have Sirius and Remus been downgraded? What on Earth have they done to upset Lily this time and is James indicted too?

Lily huffs, a gracious smile on her face and she’s so damn pretty; he’s the luckiest man in the world, he really is. “Leo and Caelum. They’re both coming around for dinner. Harry said she told you.” Leo and Caelum? Who’re they? Well, Leo’s the younger Hurst, but that means– Caelum Lestrange. Coming around for dinner. Because Harry wants to introduce them. Formally. Because they’re in a _Relationship._

“Nnnoooooooo.” Head buried in his hands, James accepts the commiserative pat of the shoulder from Lily. 

Maybe, just maybe, he’s not woken up yet. But if not, how is he supposed to deal with two of them? What happened to his little fawn who was interested in potions and potions only? Is this his karmic payback for not supporting her right from the start? For wanting her to be interested in anything other than potions? 

Damn it, there’s no way Hurst or Lestrange are good enough for his little girl; no wonder there’s two of them!


	15. Chapter 15

Twirling her wand and spreading the herbs across the potatoes, Lily Potter hears the roar of the Floo and pushes down the urge to go and greet their guests right away. She wonders which one will have arrived first, if it is Leo or the Lestrange Heir, Caelum. Of course, she’s already met Leo, has spoken with him when they went to dinner with the Hursts. No matter James’ opinion (she has to allow him some leeway, his overprotectiveness makes his eyesight worse than it already is so he’s seeing things that aren’t there), she knows Lionel Hurst is a good boy. Meanwhile...

It is not that she doesn’t trust her daughter, but Lily is very aware of just what kind of family the Lestranges are. She could only begin to imagine what kind of beliefs this boy would have been brought up with. Still, if Harry is bringing him over, he can’t have taken to them all. Otherwise he would never have dared be seen in her daughter’s company. So that is one point in his favour. 

She has to trust her daughter on this. It is Harry’s life. No matter if this is the love story that will bless her for the rest of her days, or the first colossal mistake she’s ever going to make, it is up to her daughter to make those decisions. Harry is seventeen years old now, an adult in her own right and if she is happy in a tri-relationship, then who is Lily to tell her otherwise? She just hopes that discussion on sex and being safe stuck. 

Sitting up to the kitchen table and still with his head in his hands, James doesn’t so much as twitch. He’ll come around once he sees Harry is happy. It’s one of the things she loves most about him; his ability to set aside his own feelings if it means making those closest to him happy. That it’s not a trait which comes naturally to him, that it’s something he has worked hard to achieve for her sake makes it all the more precious. 

“Mum?” Harry appears at the door to the kitchen, followed by a thin, tall boy who can only be- “This is Caelum Lestrange.” Well, he is a good looking boy, though this doesn’t exactly come as a surprise. What is however, is the way he steps forward and presents her with a bouquet of flowers expertly arranged.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lady Potter.” It’s cute how he managed to say that with a straight face, despite everything he has no doubt been brought up to believe in. The boy is actually trying quite hard to impress, something she deduces by the surprised pleasure in Harry’s own eyes. Lily accepts the flowers with a smile and soft word of thanks, thumb running down one of the stems. 

“You’re more than welcome to go and wait for Leo to arrive. I’m sure Lord Potter will be able to drag himself out of his head to help should the kitchen spontaneously combust.” Harry shoots her a smile for the out Lily has offered them and, as Caelum turns to look at Harry to check if this is acceptable behaviour, Lily fires a wink to her daughter. 

Once they’re out of the kitchen and it is just Lily and James left, she turns her attention on her adorable husband and just, observes. He’s staring at the bouquet of flowers that she’s shuffled into a jar with sad eyes, a pout on his face as if he’s trying to ignore the gesture but can’t. 

“I don’t want to give him a chance,” James grumbles into the silence, petulantly folding his arms and probably kicking his feet up to rest on the support beam in the centre of the table. 

“He clearly likes Harry if he’s willing to step out of his comfort zone and come here.” That he’s even agreed to be in a relationship with Harry at all shows that the pretty face isn’t hiding a closed off mind. Though, how open to new ideas he is is up for debate. Regardless of that, Lily rather thinks it says a lot about Caelum Lestrange that he’s here, clearly without the approval of his parents, in a three-way relationship between a halfblood girl and a Book of Bronze boy.

“Sirius would understand my woes,” James laments, flicking his big blue eyes up to stare pleadingly at her from beneath his lashes, that same look that he knows full well she can’t resist. 

Lily leans over the table to plant a kiss on his waiting lips, her chest blooming with the unquantifiable love she feels for this man. 

She tactfully doesn’t mention the fact that Sirius may very well see some similarities between himself and Heir Lestrange. Bucking parental expectations? Moving out? Dating someone outside of the approved social circle? There’s every chance Sirius will be right on board with one of Harry’s beaus being Caelum Lestrange.

That it could very well tear the boy away from Bellatrix, his hated rival, would just be the icing on the cake. 

“Just get through dinner without challenging either of them to a duel, Darling.”

“Harry says Lestrange is an abrasive ass. How am I supposed to sit through a good hour at least with that?”

“Because it would seem Harry likes the boy, and you like whatever makes our daughter happy.” 

James huffs a breath, mumbling how she “shouldn’t sprout logic like that” and “this time I’ll get it right and install a fear of cooties in Addy the second she can recognise what a boy is”. 


	16. Chapter 16

“This is horrific, how on earth did you trick me into this?”

Honestly, Harry has been asking herself the same question ever since Caelum stepped through the grate. Inviting Leo over for tea hadn’t phased her in the least; her parents already knew him and she’s already spoken with Lily about the concept of a three-way relationship. It wouldn’t be a surprise to one of her parents (with her dad, Harry has found that it is best to just drop things on him with little to no time to think it over). 

Inviting Caelum on the other hand...

“The flowers were a nice touch,” Harry decides, rocking back on her heels and offering her (second) favourite potioneer a smile. From the flush to his high cheeks, this statement embarrasses Caelum significantly and if that isn’t a reason to keep going, Harry doesn’t know what is. “Yellow, pink and orange was a good choice; the colours are bright and people subconsciously link them to happy occurrences.” 

“Potter,” Caelum snarls, though all the venom is extracted from his words, “just, don’t. Why am I even here?” 

“Because you came back that day.”

In truth, that had probably been one of the biggest surprises of the summer, right after finding out that sex is remarkably pleasant. She’d been relatively sure she’d have to chase Caelum down, maybe ambush him at Tate’s in order to drag his thoughts out of his body. Instead, he’d come right back and kissed her.

She’s not quite sure what to do with his near hesitant touches. They’re not like Leo’s easy displays of affection, not the same warm hugs or cheery kisses. Leo kisses her like it makes his every day that much brighter, that much better. Caelum holds her hands like they’re pixie wings, as if they’ll crumble away if he applies too much pressure. He holds her hand like it’s a vial of phoenix tears, the most precious substance he’s ever handled. It’s actually quite flattering that, beneath all his gnarly gestures and general unpleasantness, there’s a boy who holds her in high regard. Even if he’s hesitant on how to express himself, well, Harry can’t judge him.

When has Harry had time for physical affection, even among her friends? Hugs are too risky; her form is decidedly not male, modified polyjuice or not. There’d been that one disastrous kiss with Draco but that had been something brought upon her. The first time she’d ever initiated a kiss had been that night she, Caelum and Leo has ended up tangled in her bedsheets. She has no prior experience to draw upon, only examples.

Somehow, she doesn’t think Theo’s dalliances during their Hogwarts months is going to be a good working model here. No, Harry wants something like what her parents share, if that is even remotely possible for her to achieve.

She’s not like Lily, not like James. Romance, sweet gestures, endearing thoughtfulness; it all comes easily to them. Harry has scarcely given a thought to relationships in the past, never mind what she would act like within one. 

Still... she likes the hand holding. She likes the quick little kisses Leo has taken to peppering her face with in the last week. She likes the tender, hesitant stokes Caelum has taken to applying on her back or side whenever they lay or stand beside each other.

She likes that she can reach out and touch them, can physically affirm they’re here, with her. Starting Hogwarts, she’d been resigned to a lonely seven years before she could assume her own life again. But, then her friends had come along and, no matter how dangerous it continues to be to keep them, she wouldn’t give them up for the world. 

To want that same level of closeness, to want to have Caelum and Leo as lovers, to want a relationship with them, to _want_ at all... she feels despicably greedy. Like a glutton who is over indulging because the opportunity came along. 

“Brat, you’re not allowed to zone out when you’ve dragged me into hostile territory.” Caelum doesn’t quite pinch her hip, but it’s not a squeeze either. Some strange, bastardised combination. 

“It’s hardly hostile.”

“Clearly you didn’t see the look on your father’s face; I don’t doubt he’s thinking of several different ways to hide a body. It’s ridiculous. I am quite clearly a prized catch, one that you were infinitely lucky to land. People can say what they want about your mother, but it’s clear she at least recognises good breeding when she sees it.” 

Harry frowns, trying to figure out if that’s supposed to be an insult or a compliment before she sweeps the thought away. She doesn’t care anyway; part of what makes Caelum fun is how he unflinchingly delivers truths as he sees them. She just needs to hammer a better world-wide view into his head. 

Instead, she settles for snatching up Caelum’s hand from her hip (potioneer’s nails, pianist’s fingers, the beginnings of dueller’s callouses) and threads her fingers through his. So far, he’s always been the one to initiate the contact, to start the hand holding but... it’s nice. She rather thinks she’d like to do it more often.

She’s a glutton, esurient in her actions. And her secrets sit tight like a noose around her neck but that’s not something she wants to consider right now. 

She has a dinner to get through.   
  



	17. Chapter 17

  
When Leo arrives at Potter Place for the second time in his life, he’s quick to find Harry in the receiving room and engulf her in a hug, one hand still wrapped around the neck of the bottle he’s brought along with him. One bonus point to being the Rogue is that there’s a few gifts that come his way from appreciative people. The vampires of Lamia Lodge, for example, have unearthed a secret room in their accommodations that houses a great selection of old wines, some pre-dating the Ministry itself. He has one of said bottles on him tonight, the thin neck expertly held within his hand. It’s no ale, but a bottle of wine is the traditional gift, no? When Lestrange had cornered him as Harry showered this morning, the last thing he’d been expecting was for the other boy to want to discus society’s ridiculous protocols for visiting parents. 

He’d still have brought a gift. Just, not wine. Even if they’re all of age, it’s not exactly something that comes to mind to give as a gift. Ah well, that’s why they’ve got Lestrange. Speaking of–

Leo releases Harry, spinning on heel to peck a kiss to Lestrange’s cheek and ignoring the scowl that crosses the other’s face. 

“Let’s really sell this. It’s important to get the parental approval.”

The darkly amused snort that Lestrange lets out sends a curl of guilt swirling through Leo’s guts, if only for a moment. Right, Lestrange’s parents are assholes. He knows this, Harry knows this, Lestrange knows this. Eh. If things go well (and Leo intends to ensure they do) then Lestrange will get two new sets of parents in the end. Between Leo’s Ma and Pa, and Harry’s parents? He’ll be so spoilt for parental affection he won’t even know what to do with it all. 

They’re all surrounding the dining room table, even little Addy in her highchair. She’d stared at him when they came in and Leo’d offered her a smile while producing one of Jason’s latest toys from an expanded pocket. Does he carry one or two to easily soothe the kids of the Lower Alleys? Yes, he does. 

He’d been Addy’s favourite for exactly three seconds. Because three seconds was all it’d taken for her to glance at Lestrange. 

The kid had stopped, stared, the rattled out a “pwetty!” at the sight of him. 

Leo can’t decide what he finds more amusing; the look of disgust that Lestrange had adopted the moment the little girl’s sticky hands had registered, the pleading look he’d sent Harry which has prompted exactly zero response from the girl, or the distraught whimper that James Potter had let escape between his lips. 

“Leo,” Lily Potter says, sweeping in to save the day, “you look well.”

“I am, thank you, Mrs Potter. Never been better in my life, to be honest.” He flings a look towards his ‘lovers’, sappy affection plastered across his every feature. 

“Hawrry!” Harry’s delightful little sister slams one open palm down on her highchair, having finally torn her gaze away from Lestrange. “Up!” 

It’s ridiculously cute to see Harry interacting with a toddler. She’s never taught anyone under five during her time as a teacher in the Lower Alleys, so he’s got no base reference on how she handles the young kids. There’s no awkward hesitance to her movements, only long practiced efficiency as she plucks Addy from the chair. 

Leo makes a beeline for the two, quite unable to help himself. She’s cute (and it definitely doesn’t have anything to do with the fact the kid seems to have taken to Lestrange better than him). Addy has the same bright blue eyes as her father, though her hair is all Mrs Potter’s.

The fascination with magic though, that’s all Harry. She’s absolutely riveted on his fingers as Leo makes a few colourful lights dance between them, snaking back and forth as the toddler ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ at the movement.

“That’s some good control.” James Potter’s tone isn’t quite accusatory, but there’s an underlying ‘why do you have good control’ in his words. 

He doubts a King of Thieves has ever been this close to the head Auror before without being arrested. 

Ah, why couldn’t Harry’s father have a job in any other department; why did it have to be the one that could throw him in jail if he learns the truth? Not that Leo plans on really exposing that secret to anyone here. 

Well, other than Lestrange, but that’s for a later date.

Not too late though.


	18. Chapter 18

The dinner isn’t horrific.

Given the expectations he’d arrived with, Caelum can safely say he’s been pleasantly surprised. Given his expectations had been a rock bottom ‘Potter senior is going to hide my rotting corpse’, it wasn’t exactly a difficult bar to clear. The glaring he could certainly do without (Caelum is a prized catch; their daughter is blessed to have scooped him up) but he supposed you can’t have everything. 

Still, it is a relatively discomforting experience to sit down for what could potentially pass as a family dinner and not have to worry about the repercussions of what he says. Well, that’s only half true; he is admittedly watching his tongue something terrible. The Caelum of five years ago would never have dreamed he’d be sitting willingly across from the... woman pureblood James Porter married. And, it is in no way obvious that Lily Potter wasn’t born in their world. 

Perhaps that’s what is making him so uncomfortable. That he’s having to rip that blindfold off his parents installed. Harry might have lifted it, had offered him a forceful peek of the actual ways of the world, but she can’t be the one to remove it. 

That’s his job alone.

“Harry says you’ll be taking your Potions Mastery soon, Caelum?” 

He doesn’t quite startle at the direct address, though he does pause in slicing though the admittedly delicious potatoes to look to Lily Potter. 

Lord Potter still has the face of a eurumpt’s backside, seemingly unable to decide between glaring at Caelum or Hurst so his eyes keep jumping between them. It’s lowering the effect of his hard stare so Caelum ignores it. 

He’d already seen how the other reacted to learning Bellatrix had launched a vase at his head; no matter the display he puts on, he’s soft as a crup. 

“Yes. Master Whitaker stated I was sufficiently prepared a year prior, but I wished to continue perusing some of the different potions communities across the world before I agreed to undertake the exam.”

“Are you planning on travelling the world for Potions, Harry?” Hurts asks, head tilting to a side and instantly drawing all of Caelum’s attention with that one question. The thought of Harry going out of the country is not a pleasant one, for all that he knows she can look after herself (the potions, the free-duelling? He’d be more worried for anyone who tried anything with her, if he was a kind person, that is. No, should anyone start anything with Harry, they deserve what they get).

“Alone?” Potter Senior chokes out, looking remarkably horrified by the thought. Which, fair enough, he’s unaware of just how capable Harry is. She’s whip smart, inventive, and she can duel. Caelum’s relatively sure she could best his mother too, if push came to shove.

Part of him almost wants to see it.

“If I do travel, it’ll probably be with Archie-“ Caelum shares one long, understanding look with Hurst around the girl’s head; if there’s one thing they can agree on, it’s that Harry should not be galavanting off to other countries with with Rigel fucking Black. “-as I’m sure there’ll be medical related discoveries to be made too.” 

“I’m sure Caelum and I could get time off between our jobs to travel with you, Lass.” Hurst cuts in, a smile on his face and Caelum aggressively pushes down the need to snap about the use of his first name. The Potters are expecting a flawless trio and flawless trios call each other by name. Or nicknames. Not that he would do something as mundane as to address Hurst or Harry by a trivial title. Ridiculous. 

“With Archie chaperoning?” Lord Potter muses, looking disgruntled, as if he’s trying to come up with a way to shoot the idea down but his hands are empty, no wand in sight. The man slouches forwards slightly, as if admitting defeat.

Caelum opens his mouth to correct the man on that assumption (as if he would allow Black, who is technically engaged to Harry even if it’s clearly only ever been a precautionary measure) but snaps it shut when two stinging hexes hit his thigh, one high and one low. He recognises the flex of Harry’s magic, which means the other was probably Hurst.

Bastard. 

“Of course, Dad.” Ah. The look Lily Potter is giving the three of them is clearly encouraging them to ignore whatever is coming out of her husband’s mouth. Quite frankly, Caelum is more than happy to follow that unspoken advice. 

And then, proving the exact reason why Caelum will have exactly one heir (it’s necessary to carry on the Lestrange line), Harry’s younger sister flips the remains of her plate and splatters the entire table with gravy. 

Yes. He’s quite done here.

Fuck, does Harry still live at home, or will she be returning to her flat tonight? He’s a realist; he won’t be able to entice her over to his when Hurst can’t get in, so her place will have to do.


	19. Chapter 19

“Hey. Would you really be able to take a break to travel?”

They’re all laid in her (now magically enlarged) bed, Caelum on her left and Leo on her right. The King of the Rogues is on his side, head propped up on one arm to lazily draw patterns across her skin with his free hand. The hem of her shirt had ridden up as she laid down and Leo has zoned in on the sliver of flesh exposed to the air, the covers resting across their legs because it is summer and it is warm.

Beside her, Caelum is laid flat on his back, though he does have one arm extended out for her to rest her head on. It’s strange how he’s both closed off and desperate for affection, all at the same time. She’s becoming more and more familiar with the shape of his hands, the length of his fingers, the wand callouses on his palm. She could make a good go at drawing them now, though it wouldn’t be perfect. She’d have to spend more time holding them before she were capable of that. It seems like Caelum is happy to let her memorise them; memorise him. 

“Not for long,” Leo admits, still staring at the stretch of skin he’s running his fingers across. There’s nothing sexual about the touch (or, so Harry thinks), but the tactile nature of it is... comforting. “Maybe a half week at most. There’s always a lot to do.” 

“Just what do you do, Hurst.” Caelum grunts, his neck arching so he can stare at Leo around her and Harry hums, reaching for the hem of Caelum’s shirt. The delicate cotton gathers between her fingers, pulling taunt across Caelum’s stomach and giving a slight hint to the jut of his hipbones.

Harry forcibly turns her attention away from it, focuses on Leo instead. The Kingship is his secret, his ruse for everyone else to see. But, if they are in this strange entanglement of a relationship together, then it’s only a matter of time before Caelum finds out anyway. 

“In the Lower Alleys, one person is in charge of making sure the people are looked after. The strongest duellist- you get the job once you beat the one before you in combat. If that’s not clear enough, little Lordling, that’s me. King of Thieves.”

Caelum stares, ludicrous. Harry takes the opportunity to drink in his painfully beautiful face. It’s so rarely absent of the disdainful twist, though he is getting better in that regard. She doesn’t really get to appreciate his features when he’s just happy; she’s always too busy focusing on the smile. Between that and the easy going grin that Leo always fires her way- well, is it any wonder than she’s ended up in this predicament with the two of them.

“A king. You’re trying to tell me this underbelly of Diagon has a ruling system.”

“Yup. And that’s me. No one will bother you down here, Pretty Boy.”

There’s a moment of peace between them, to the point Harry’s eyes start to slide closed. It’s broken by Caelum’s sharp bark of laughter, both delighted and infuriated at the same time. 

“I can’t believe Head Auror James Potter thinks I am the bad influence.”

When Harry wakes, her nose is pressing to Leo’s chin, her cheek pillowed on his arm. Behind her, Caelum is half curled around her body, both of his arms at her waist and holding her close. The tops of his thighs are cool against the backs of her own, strands of her hair fluttering about with his every exhale.

Leo mumbles something in his sleep that is not in any way coherent. He presses his nose against her forehead and Harry finds herself mouth to exposed collarbone because he’s the only one of them that doesn’t wear a shirt when sleeping. It’s warm, probably too warm of a night for her to be pressed between two other bodies. The window is wide open in a (vain) attempt to ventilate the room. 

She wants to be cool though, wants to be able to nod back off to sleep surrounded by Leo and Caelum so she can wake in the morning rejuvenated and ready to push potion boundaries. Caelum has his master’s exam to study for, Leo has a kingdom to run, and Harry has ideas she wants to bring into fruition. 

She doesn’t even need to offer it a mental prod now; her magic soundlessly closes the window and the temperature of the room blatantly drops. Not enough that it would force the other two awake, but enough that Harry can notice it and recognise she’ll be shivering by the end of the hour. Her magic lifts the blanket, tucking them all in and she doesn’t miss how it strokes at both Leo and Caelum’s cheeks before retreating.

Harry doesn’t miss how Caelum relaxes that little bit more, or how Leo sleepily mumbles her name as he subconsciously recognises her magic at work. 

Harry hunkers down into the blanket herself, feeling Caelum’s arms tighten at her waist and Leo snuggle that little bit more against her. 

It’s just like friends; she didn’t know she wanted them until she had them. She didn’t know she wanted these lovers until they were hers.

She doesn’t want to risk losing them. 

Which means... telling them about the ruse.

Archie’s told Hermione but then, Hermione had happily sworn herself to secrecy. 

She’s not too sure if Leo and Caelum would agree to that. She’ll need to consult Archie, get his opinion.

But for now, she’ll sleep. 


	20. Chapter 20

Harry had scampered off after showering, calling about some meeting with her cousin, and Leo’ll be damned if he doesn’t at least make an effort of introducing the Alleys proper to the Lordling while she’s gone. It’d been relatively easy to collar him right after Harry’s abrupt departure too. 

“Come to the Serpents Storeroom with me.”

“No. Unlike you, my ambitions require actual qualifications certified by an examining body.”

“Please. You and I both know there’s nothing in those potions books that you don’t already know. Unless our sweet lass has been singing you unearned praises?” Harry hadn’t really been singling Caelum Lestrange praising (not anywhere that Leo’d been in hearing range of anyway), but it’d enough to prompt a snarl to the pureblood heir’s face. 

And now, here they are, right outside of Krait’s place and standing close enough to hint at intimacy with no Harry in sight. He misses the bonfire of her magic, but he can get by with focusing on the downpour that is Caelum. 

Said monsoon in human skin is staring hard at the poster for ‘Potter’s Protection Potion’, a wry smirk at his lips. He doesn’t say anything though, so Leo doesn’t mention it. Instead he pushes open the door, ducking his head ever so slightly in Krait’s direction. There’s a customer or two perusing the shelves, inspection the wares but, given how Leo doesn’t immediately recognise them, they’re not any of his. 

“Why,” Caelum hisses, pitching his voice low and keeping his lips pressed into a firm, hard line as best he can, “are we here.” 

“Harry brews for Krait-“ Leo plucks up a few blood replenishers that he knows the clinic can always make use of, recognising Harry’s handwriting on the label with ease. “-has done since she was a scrappy kid of twelve. I ever tell you I thought she was a boy when I saw her down here for the first time?” 

Caelum snorts, reaching out to pluck up another example of Harry’s work, twisting the vial around to test the consistence of the potion within. He makes an appreciative noise. “Of course not. It’s hardly as if we have ever spoken before the liquor your backwater pub serves managed to influence me.” 

“And here you are now, sober and on a date.” He says it simply for the reaction it tears from Caelum; hackles up and teeth flashing. Oh, it’s adorable in a very different way to how he finds Harry cute. 

Leo’s pretty sure he loves Harry. 

He finds both Harry and Caelum attractive; the whole point of this is finding out if there’s something he can love here too. He’s not discovered anything off putting so the potential is... promising. 

“Your Highness,” Krait’s low greeting rumbles down the aisle, drawing Leo’s attention with practiced ease. The other patrons of the shop are busy browsing the wares, leaving the owner free to chat with him. Exactly what Leo wants right now.

“Morning, Krait. I’m checking up on all the stores down here today and figured I’d drop in for Harry’s todo list while I’m at it.” Leo slides an easy grin to the man, flicking her eyes to Caelum once, just so the older man knows that his company is of some importance. “This is Caelum Lestrange. Harry’s potioneer friend.” 

“Is that what you’re calling it these days?” Krait drawls, though he does look Caelum over with one quick sweep, a frown puckering his face. No doubt wondering why Leo is being so accommodating for the fellow when he’s clearly so sweet on Harry. Oh, he’s hardly been subtle about it, has he? Everyone in the Alley’s knows their king fancies his chances with Krait’s brewer, Just Harry. 

Very few of them will know he’s actually managed to snag her interest, that he’s reeled in a pretty pureblood Lord too. It’s going to be such great fun to watch the reactions as his people figure it all out. It’s why he doesn’t correct Krait now, even as Caelum sniffs disagreeably.

“Give me a moment, I’ll go grab her list. Though I was hardly expecting you to play post owl today, your Highness.” 

Krait disappears to the back of the store and Leo mentally checks the place off his internal list of ‘stores to expose Caelum to’. The particularly useful ones who’ll pass the information along that a new entity has been introduced to the Alleys by the King. It’ll afford him some level of protection down here. As for protecting himself; well, Leo trained Harry. There’s les s magic to work with for the Lordling, but he’s pretty sure he can get Caelum up to stuff too. 

“Why has Harry been brewing for a destitute store like this when she’s the Potter Heiress?” Caelum hisses, his eyes flickering over the range of potions on sale and easily finding all the ones Harry has made. “And where the fuck does she get the time for this?” 

“She’s just that efficient. And the money goes to the apartment.” The unspoken ‘so her parents probably have no idea about the place’ hangs heavy between them. Caelum nods in understanding, not quite snatching the list Krait returning with but regally plucking it from his hands before it can even be offered to Leo.

As his companion scans the list with those arctic eyes, Leo offers Krait a smile. 

The soft ‘fuck’ that escapes Caelum’s lips as he looks to the front door, the bell for a new customer dinging in the background, quickly kills that smile.   
  



	21. Chapter 21

Lucius Malfoy clocks him the second he scans the room, that much Caelum is certain of. 

There’s a stunned moment of silence as they register each other’s presence in a shady Knockturn Alley potions shop, following on from the moment Caelum had spotted that signature hair as he walked in through the door. The curse was probably unnecessary, but Caelum hadn’t truly thought before allowing it to leave between his lips, an instinctive response to the sudden upset before him. Even then, his mind continues to spin.

Yes, he hasn’t spoken to any of his blood family since moving out, had left his mother a note stating his intentions for independence and determination to make something of himself prior to inheriting the family business. It had, of course, been worded in such a way that she wouldn’t be offended enough to track him down but annoyed enough to not go complaining to her sister (in other words, he’d written the note about twenty-four times to ensure it was a perfect balance between these two intentions).

His father, well, he’d left him an owl address. The man wouldn’t care enough to chase him for ‘escaping under his mother’s thumb’. Could either envy him or be grateful for his non-presence within the castle. Again, one of two responses.

Regardless of Caelum’s intentions to not draw attention to this, this thing he has with Harry and her tag along Hurst, it seems the all knowing Lucius Malfoy is here to stick his pointy as fuck nose in regardless.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

With a huff, Caelum turns his attention back to Hurst in time to spot the other’s intentions of flinging one arm up and over his shoulders. Caelum sees it, could move away if he wished it but, the truth is, he doesn’t want to. 

No, that’s not true either. He’s indifferent about it. Sooner or later, Lord Malfoy will hear he’s moved out, will realise he’s slipping from beneath his mother’s iron-fist and Caelum has exactly zero intentions of allowing his ‘uncle’ to swoop in and act the benevolent benefactor. Best to make it appear that he is not something that can be controlled. So he allows Hurst’s arm to rest over his shoulders, though pinches the other by the ribs in warning. 

“Caelum.” Lucius voice slides like oil over him but Caelum is water natured; he’ll never allow it to mix, to contaminate. The only impurities that will grace him are those he’ll allow. 

(Harry and her thin fingers, nails trimmed to potion regulation standards and a whirl of fiendfyre beneath her skin) 

It’s why he doesn’t shrug Hurst’s arm from his shoulders. What does he care what Lucius Malfoy thinks of him? A pureblood Lord scampering to Lord Riddle’s every want and whim.

Oh, Caelum can acknowledge the SOW Party leader is a magical powerhouse. But there’s something about the other that rubs him the wrong way.

That and, given his mother’s tendency to pant after him like a bitch in heat- well, it’s enough to put anyone off. 

“Lord Malfoy,” he grunts, offering the barest nod of his head and it’s rude as fuck, but he honestly doesn’t care. The man’s supposedly ‘family’ after all, for all that means among their kind when one of their own turns against the ideas.

(Though really, has Caelum turned against their ideals by laying himself down besides Harry? Harry who has more raw talent in the palm of her hand than any of the pureblood fops in their age bracket? Especially given how Riddle has been pushing for halfblood relations for some obscure reason)

It’s why he turns to Hurst, sneering at the physical contact despite the other’s arm being so warm across his shoulders (another fire nature core, no doubt). “Have you got Harry’s...” he trails off, unwilling to give away the fact Harry brews for this lacklustre store (though if she truly has been brewing here for as long as Hurst suggests, perhaps it was the only shop shady enough to take a preteen brewer onboard). 

For all that Hurst is only a single step above being low-born, he’s sharp enough to get the hint, firing off a smile of relaxing and full of ease confidence that, for a single breath, Caleum gets it. He understands why Harry is spending time with this boy, why she finds his company tolerable despite his evident lack of interest in potions. Well, that’s perhaps not entirely true; the bastard has some knowledge on the subject. But, for some unfathomable reason, he’s dedicated to the Lower Alleys and the plebeians who live here. 

Hurst slides him a sly look, teasing smile on his face before he releasing the gentle hold he has on Caelum’s shoulders, rocking back down on to his toes. Of course, Hurst is an inch or two inferior in height. 

He tries to ignore how he makes up for that in the hard packed muscles on his limbs. 

“Our girl is sorted,” Hurst confirms, looking utterly unbothered as he sweeps into a bow just a shade shy of being acceptably polite. Heh.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Lucius says, voice controlled as he looks Hurst over and Caelum steps forwards, his eyes level with the sharp eyes of his uncle by marriage.

“There’s been no formal introduction yet,” Caelum states, not even attempting to suppress the smirk that works across his lips. After all, they are both acutely aware there are no further social events planned for the rest of the summer season. Thus, no chances for a formal introduction of anyone within Caelum’s life.

Let them keep guessing; it’s hardly any of their business, is it? They all twitter on about meaningless drivel, expectations that they all strive to react or shove down his throat when all that Caelum cares for is his potions.

Potions and Harry. His Harry. And her Hurst, the damn tagalong he cant shake (isn’t utterly certain he wants to shake). 

“And an informal one?” Lucius muses, not quite clicking his tongue in a show of disgruntlement but it’s only because he considers himself too well bred. 

Caelum has no such problem.

“I’m afraid I’ve hardly the time spare. Between my potions mastery, being only one of three shaped imbuing potioneers, and the Lestrange Heir, my free time is limited.”

“And in high demand,” Hurst cuts in, rocking back on his heels and playing at a character that hints nothing towards his apparent kingship. “Let’s get going, Caelum.”   
  


The addressing by given name will have to stop though. 


	22. Chapter 22

“You want to what?”

“Tell Leo and Caelum.”

Archie continues to stare at her, astounded. His lips are parted, his eyes wide, his shoulders loose; shock exhibited in every possible way. Then, all at once, he deflates, flopping out across the chair with limbs that may well as be noodles.

“I thought that’s what you said,” he moans, scrubbing one hand across his sad puppy eyes before he turns that weaponised gaze on her. 

It’s no problem, Harry’s well used to dealing with this particular look after a lifetime of mischief and mayhem together. On this, she won’t budge. Archie has told Hermione. Not the true extent of it, he hasn’t exposed to dark underbelly of it all, hasn’t showcased the lies and schemes, the plots and plans and the narrow escapes. But, the girl knows enough to have them thrown in Azkaban, should she ever share such knowledge. Well, had she not taken a vow to keep their secrets, that is. 

“I mean, Leo I can understand. But Lestrange?” Archie stresses Caelum’s name, grimace still potent on his face but he’s given up on the puppy dog eyes, clearly recognising they’re not going to influence her at all. 

“I can’t tell Leo without telling Caelum,” Harry states, though she doesn’t expand. Doesn’t explain how they are of equal importance in her life, doesn’t explain how she cannot tell one without the other because it would be like choosing one and-

And she’s greedy. She’s starting to think it’s one of her defining traits in truth. Greedy for an education she’s not supposed to have, greedy for friends she’s not supposed to keep, greedy for lovers she’s supposed to decline. 

They’ll hardly be the first trio history, nor the last. But general consensus is that trios aren’t the ideal state to be in, what with the messy lines of inheritance that can come of it. 

Not that Harry cares. She’s not even sure she wants children anyway. Before it had been a hard no but... she’d thought that about lovers as well. 

Regardless, a child is a lifelong commitment and she’s not about to bumble into that as she has done her current relationship, not when a child is something you can’t undo. That is one step she will only take if she is utterly sure she wants one. Which she’s near certain she won’t want within the next ten years at least. 

“Right, okay. So, how are we doing this then?” Archie asks. It’s heartwarming really. Just a check to ensure she’s certain about her current choices, then the assumption he’s going to be involved, that he’s going to help. Because Archie looks at her and sees his cousin, a partner in crime and someone to always depend upon. 

It’s exactly what Harry sees when she looks at him. Addy is her sister, but Archie is her brother in all but name. 

“I have a vow that prevents them from sharing what they learn in a set room; it’s almost like a ward really. Ensuring the safety of the ruse isn’t the issue here, it’s...” it’s how they’ll both react.

Certainly, both Leo and Caelum will be upset. Just, for different reasons. Leo knows she’s up to something illegal, knows to keep his head down and not ask her too many questions on that topic. He’s never met Rigel Black, not as he believes anyway, so Leo’s problem will be the ridiculous amount of danger she’s been putting herself in for the sake of the ruse.

Caelum, well, Caelum is a whole different herd of hippogriffs. Caelum has met Rigel Black and to say his opinion of Rigel is low is to state water is wet. Blatantly obvious and, quite frankly, an understatement of epic proportions. His reaction... well, it’ll either be explosive or arctic.

And yet, despite knowing that the fallout for this is going to be biblical, despite knowing its only going to hurt and there’s a very strong chance what she has is going to fall apart... Harry knows she has to do it anyway. Because she cannot go on like this, holding Leo and Caelum close with the humongous secret of the ruse trapped in the depth of her chest. She can’t want to know anything and everything about them but keep such a significant part of herself hidden. So-

“Their reactions will probably be bad, but I need to do this anyway.” Archie’s grimace pretty much sums it up but, Harry’s has to do plenty of things in her life now, of picking between a rock and a hard place. 

She’ll continue on as she always does and, if needed, she’ll come up with some way of working her way into Leo and Caelum’s good books.   
  


She’ll have to. 


End file.
